Love's Irony
by a novelist
Summary: Eight years after making a pact that if they are still single when they are thirty, they will marry each other, Beck and Tori decide to wed. But they soon find marriage outside of love to be more difficult than they thought. Can they keep their close friendship intact?
1. Prelude

Hello, all. So, I'd like your honest opinion on this because I'm not entirely sure what to think about it. I'm not used to writing humorous stories, but I'll try my hand at it (humor will be in chapters to come). I'd like to make it into a multi-chapter story, but I'll see how the first chapter goes first. In the meantime, enjoy!

* * *

In the basement of an old dormitory, a very large party was underway. Music blared from large speakers that were placed on either side of the room. Streamers made from extra rolls of toilet paper hung from the ceiling, attached only by a single piece of neon duct tape.

At the bar, a student was filling empty Root Beer bottles with alcohol, all the while anxiously keeping an eye on the door, praying an administrator did not come down to bust the forbidden act.

Beck was one of the last to arrive at the party. It was nearly midnight, and still, the party was going strong. He quickly scanned the room with hopes of finding a familiar face. His eyes lit up when he saw a young man at the back of the room, waving him down.

"Beck! Hey, over here!"

He carefully pushed his way through the crowd of mingling students. As he got closer to his friend, he noticed a young woman with long, dark hair and light blue eyes sitting to his right. She looked up at Beck and smirked. "Alone again, are we?" she asked. She took a swig of her drink. "I thought for sure you'd find a date by now, being a big-time movie star and all."

Beck ignored the comment. "Have you seen Tori? She told me to meet her here."

Andre nodded. "She's over by the bar," he answered. "She's kind of depressed right now, so I'd tread lightly if I were you."

Beck ran a hand through his hair. "She's still upset about her fiancé?" he asked. When Andre nodded, Beck said, "I'll go talk to her." He sighed. "At least she's out of her room now. That's an improvement."

"True."

He turned away from the young couple and started toward the bar. Again, he pushed through the crowd of students, most of whom he noticed were beginning to get a little more than just tipsy. He smirked at the sight, but kept walking until finally, he saw Tori.

She was sitting alone at the bar, taking long swigs from a Root Beer bottle. She didn't notice him as he stood there, studying his best friend of many, many years. She didn't notice as he stepped even closer to her, and she didn't even notice when he took a seat only inches away from her on another barstool. She was oblivious to the world, lost in her own sorrows.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself," he said. "You know that, right?"

She didn't look at him when she answered, but instead finished off her drink and ordered another. "It seems easier this way," she said. Her voice slurred as she spoke. "Maybe if I drink enough, none of this will be real. Maybe I'll still be engaged. Maybe I'll even be married." She smirked. "Just maybe."

He sighed heavily. "You're upset. I get that. Really, I do. But you're going to completely ruin your life if you continue to block out those who love and care about you, and especially if you try to drink away your sorrows." He took her free hand and squeezed it gently. "You're so much better than that. You deserve better. Don't give up just because some scum ran off with another girl."

She nodded. "I know," she whispered, then sighed. "At this rate, though…it seems like I'll never get married. Not with my track record of boyfriends." She shook her head. "It seems like the only decent guy I can find is…" she trailed off, then laughed shortly. "Never mind."

A small smile played on his lips. "Who?"

For the first time that night, she smiled and looked at him. "You."

Beck laughed. "I think you've had too much to drink," he said. He stood. "Come on. I'll walk you back to your room. You need to sleep this off."

But she shook her head. "No, I'm serious. No other guy would even consider being around a girl like me. I mean, look at me. I'm a mess." When Beck opened his mouth to protest, she interrupted, "I am and you know it." She shrugged. "But you're still here. You've always been here, even when things get rough." She smiled. "Thanks for that, by the way."

He smiled faintly. "No problem," he whispered. Gently, he eased the bottle from her hand. "Come on. Let's get out of here." He was relieved when she took his hand and let him lead her upstairs and away from the party.

Her dorm room was on the third floor. She stumbled quite a bit as she made her way up the stairs, but between the handrails and Beck's supporting arm, she made it. When the two were finally in her room, she nearly collapsed on the bed.

Sighing, Beck pulled back the sheets and comforter and tucked her into bed, still fully clothed. "Get some rest," he said softly. "You'll feel better in the morning." He smiled. "Or at least by tomorrow afternoon, when the hangover wears off."

He knew she would have laughed at his comment, but by then she was gone, lost in a deep slumber. He hesitated a moment, then planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight," he whispered.

/

/

Early the next morning, Beck went to the college commons area for breakfast. He was surprised to see a young brunette sitting alone in the middle of the room, her head hung low as she picked idly at her food. He couldn't himself. He smiled at the sight, relieved to see her willingly out of her dorm room, and sober on at that. He walked over to her table.

"Mind if I join you?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice, then smiled. "No, not at all." She resumed pushing her food around her plate slowly, obviously lost in thought.

For a moment, the two sat in silence. Around them, students were excitedly talking about the party the night before. To their left, a young man was bragging to his friends about the drunken girl he had managed to get into bed the night before. To their right, a young woman with disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes was slouched miserably in her chair, a cup of untouched steaming coffee in front of her. And at the front of the room, a group of grave-faced administrators were huddled together, whispering to one another, all lost in an intense conversation.

Beck nudged Tori. "Looks like something's up," he said, nodding toward the front of the room. "They hardly ever come to the commons."

Tori looked up and followed his gaze.

As the two watched, the small group of administrators started toward a table just a few feet away from where they were sitting. Tony Magliocca, the underage bartender from the night before, was sitting alone, his head ducked low. As the young man looked up, his eyes widened. A look of panic crossed his face, and very slowly, he stood.

He locked eyes with Dean Carlson, who took a step closer to Tony. "Mr. Magliocca? We'd like to have a word with you. Will you please come with us?"

Beck and Tori watched as he nodded. But instead of following them out of the room, he turned in the opposite direction and began to run. The administrators quickly took off after him.

Tori laughed at the sight. "Well, if he thought he was in trouble before, just wait until they catch him." She shook her head. "Ah, to be young again."

Beck smirked. "You're twenty-two years old." He reached over and swiped a grape from her plate. "You're far from being considered old, Tori Vega."

She smiled faintly. "Yeah, well, my last breakup made me feel about fifty." She shrugged. "I mean, most of my friends are already married. Even _Jade_ is married, and to Andre, of all people. I feel like I should be married, too." She sighed. "Something…something doesn't feel right about being single. Not now."

Again, silence fell between them. Now, however, Beck sat there studying the one girl in the world he could never imagine hurting. He had seen her at her worst, and he had seen her at her best, and never once had he considered ending their close friendship, no matter what conflicts came up between them. Together, it seemed as though they had truly been through it all.

He didn't want that to change now.

He took a deep breath, then finally broke the silence. "So, I have an idea."

She looked up at him. "Yeah?"

He hesitated a moment, then said, "It might seem a little crazy. Really crazy, actually. But I've heard that some people…" he trailed off, then released a short laugh. "You know what? Never mind. I shouldn't have said anything."

She smiled. "What is it?"

He shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat. "I've heard of people – best friends of the opposite sex – making pacts that if they aren't married by a certain age, they'll marry one another."

Her smile widened. "Yeah, I've heard of that," she replied. "In fact, one of my former roommates did that with her best guy friend." She quirked an eyebrow. "So, what, you're considering it, too?"

He shrugged. "It's just a thought. I mean, you obviously want to be married but are lacking one very essential thing: a guy."

She smirked. "Yeah," she whispered.

"I'm a guy. I'm single too, you know. And as you so kindly pointed out, we're the last to wed, as it is now." He shrugged. "What will it hurt?"

She pushed away her plate and met his eyes steadily. She studied him long and hard, expecting to find a playful look in his eye. To her great surprise, she saw nothing more than the familiar, comforting eyes she had come to know and love.

She sighed heavily. "Alright," she said. "Alright, I'll do it."

He smiled widely. "Great," he said. "So, if neither of us are married by the age of forty – "

"_Forty?_ You think I'm going to wait until I'm _forty_ to get married for the first time?" she interrupted him. She leaned back in her chair. "What era are _you_ living in, Beckett Oliver?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. If we're not married to someone else by the age of thirty - that's eight years – we'll get married to one another." He raised his eyebrows. "Sound good?"

She grinned. "Sounds good. Not likely, not realistic, but it sounds good."

He nodded. "Good." He extended his hand. "Shall we shake on it?"

She laughed and took his hand. "It's a deal, Beck Oliver. In eight years, we shall wed. Save the date," she added jokingly. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Listen, I've got a class that starts soon. I've got to go. Maybe we'll catch up later tonight." She picked up her book bag and slung it over her shoulder. "See ya."

He watched as she weaved her way around the tables and left the commons area. He sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. He smiled softly.

"Eight years," he whispered to himself. "She thinks she'll be single in eight years." He shook his head as he began to pick at her leftover food. "Crazy."

"Not as crazy as the man sitting alone, talking to himself, is it?"

He rolled his eyes as he looked to his left, where a young woman now sat alone, smiling sweetly at him. She tilted her head slightly. "Come on. You've got to admit it's a little odd." She walked over to his table and took a seat across from him. "So, if I heard correctly, you're single." She lightly ran her hand down his arm. "Interested in getting a drink with me tonight? I promise, if you do, it'll be a night you'll never forget." She smiled slyly. "I'd never kiss and tell, but I haven't had a complaint yet. How about it?"

He smirked and stood, pushing in his chair carefully. "Sorry," he said. He picked up the plate and turned to leave, but not before quickly adding, "I'm pre-engaged."

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving the woman alone at the table, staring at him, her mouth agape.


	2. Chapter 2

At last, I managed to finish another chapter of "Love's Irony." So exciting. Sorry for the delay, but hopefully this made up for it. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Two weeks after his thirtieth birthday, they wed.

It wasn't entirely planned. Although both of them had wandered up north and found work in New York, they lost contact shortly after moving. It wasn't until mere weeks before the wedding that they found each other once again.

It was by fate that they were brought together, they decided, no matter how cliché the idea may seem. But it was what it was, and after one of her Broadway performances one evening, he caught up with her. Despite spending years apart, the two left together, and after a drive-thru dinner and a couple glasses of wine, he asked her to marry him.

She said yes.

And from that moment on, her life as she once knew it forever changed.

Now, less than twenty-four hours before her wedding day, Tori stood in front of a full-length mirror, carefully studying her reflection. A young woman clad in a short, hot pink dress and black, six-inch stiletto heels stared back at her. She grimaced at the sight, knowing that with an outfit like this, disaster was sure to strike by the end of the performance.

"Ms. Vega, are you ready for your makeup yet?"

Tori turned around and smiled at the woman waiting for her at the door. "Yes. Yes, of course. I'm sorry to keep you waiting." She followed the woman out of the room and down the hall.

"No rush. You've still got a good half hour until the performance." She opened the door leading to the makeup room. "Take a seat by the back wall over there. Any chair is fine, just find an empty one."

Tori weaved her way around the other cast members who were getting their makeup and hair done as well. She smiled at one young man in particular, her co-star, whose eyes lit up when he saw her.

"Hey, Jake. How's it going?"

He gave her a crooked grin. "Just _swell,_" he answered sarcastically. He shrugged. "After all, half the extras don't know where to go when their cue comes, and the other half don't even know what their cue _is._" He sighed. "God help us all tonight."

Tori laughed. "I know," she replied. She gave him a weak smile. "I'd better go get ready. I certainly don't want to make Matt mad tonight," she added, referring to the director.

Jake smiled. "No, definitely not."

With a small wave, she turned away from him and finally found an empty chair close to the only window in the room. She took a seat. One of the makeup artists on staff was by her side within moments.

"Good evening, Ms. Vega." A middle-aged woman with prematurely graying hair that offset a pair of bright blue eyes reached over and opened the makeup kit. Her accent was heavily French as she spoke. "Are you ready for tonight?"

Tori nodded. "I believe so," she responded. "But I'm not sure – "

"_Victoria Vega."_

A loud voice suddenly broke through all of the other noises in the room. Everyone fell dead silent, and every eye turned to the door, where Andre Harris now stood. His face held an expression Tori couldn't quite read, but it was one she hoped she never saw again.

He immediately marched over to her. "You're getting _married _tomorrow? Are you kidding me?"

She folded her arms and met his eyes steadily. "Yes. Yes, I am. What's the big deal?"

He glared. "You seriously have to ask me that?" He sighed and pulled a crumpled napkin from his pants pocket. "So, I was at the bar yesterday with Beck, and he _casually_ mentioned getting married tomorrow. He just dropped it into the conversation like it was nothing. I figured he was just drunk and didn't know what he was saying. But then he gave me this," he continued, waving the napkin in front of her. "A wedding invitation that was written on a napkin from the club down the street. And what's this?" he asked, grabbing her left hand. "I'd hardly call a ring that came from a _gumball_ _machine_ an engagement ring."

She narrowed her eyes, yanking her hand away. "What are you doing here, anyway? You told me you couldn't fly up here with everyone else because you were too busy to come to the show. Yet, here you are."

He scoffed. "Don't change the subject."

"Look, this is my life, okay? We made a deal years ago – "

"Yeah, I heard about it. But you were in college then. You were literally young and stupid. You're older now. You should know this isn't going to work." He glared. "If nothing else, do you have any idea what this will do to your friendship with Beck?"

She narrowed her eyes angrily. "I have to get ready," she said, turning away from him. "Go lecture someone else. I don't have the time to hear it."

He glared and stuffed the napkin back in his pocket. "Fine. But if this marriage doesn't make it – as I know it won't – I just hope you two don't bring your problems into the group. I'd hate for people to start taking sides over a ridiculous pact made in college."

Beside Tori, the makeup artist was glancing anxiously between Andre and the door. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she said hesitantly. She started to reach for her cell phone, which sat on a table nearby. "Security can be – "

"Don't bother with security. I'm leaving." He turned away from his friend. "I'll see you later." He stormed out of the room. Everyone in the room jumped as he slammed the door roughly behind him.

A moment later, the door swung open again, and Matthew Parsons, the play's director, stepped into the room. "What's going on?" he demanded. "No one except for the cast and crew are supposed to be back here. Who was he with?"

No one dared to answer him. But the older man did not back down. Instead, he stood there, glaring long and hard at the others.

Fortunately, a young man poked his head in the door and announced, "Fifteen minutes to show time. Everyone who is ready needs to report for a sound check immediately."

As the cast members began making their way to the door, Tori sighed with relief. Carefully, she stood and paused a moment, trying to regain her balance in her shoes. Then, she followed the others to the stage.

But still, her mind was elsewhere. Her thoughts whirled restlessly through her mind. Her heart ached a little as she thought of the possibility of ruining her friendship with Beck. She couldn't imagine life without him, honestly, and she suddenly wondered if they were making a mistake – a mistake that once made, could potentially never be undone.

* * *

"You're quiet this evening."

Tori glanced up from her heaping plate of food to smile at Beck. "Sorry. I'm just a little distracted, that's all." She stabbed at her salad with her fork.

He eyed her food. "You're binge eating," he noted. "Something's wrong." He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "What's up?"

She hesitated a long moment. "It's nothing, really," she whispered finally. "Just…Andre came and talked to me this afternoon before the show. He was pretty upset about the wedding tomorrow."

Beck smirked. "He'll get over it." He stabbed at his own food and popped a mini tomato into his mouth. "On another note, Robbie's pretty excited about being promoted to best man."

Tori laughed. "I'm sure he is." Then, she set down her fork and met his eyes steadily. "Beck, do you think we're making a mistake by getting married tomorrow?"

He sighed heavily, lightly pushing aside his own plate. He hesitated a moment, then reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. "We don't have to do this if you don't feel comfortable with it," he said.

"No. No, it's not that. It's just…something someone – Andre – said this afternoon got to me, and I just…" she bit her lip thoughtfully before saying, "I don't want to ruin what we have here. I'm just afraid that marriage will change everything."

"It _will_ change both of our lives," Beck said. "I'm not going to lie and say it won't. But I don't think it will change _us_ and our friendship. Not if we handle it right. How hard can it be?"

Before she could respond, Beck's cell phone rang. Sighing, he removed it from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. He rolled his eyes. "I've got to go," he muttered. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and stood. He smiled at her as he reached for his coat. "Great job tonight. I really enjoyed the show."

"Thanks."

He pulled on his coat, then pushed in his chair. "See you tomorrow," he said. "Enjoy your freedom while it lasts." His smile widened. "We're getting hitched tomorrow."

* * *

Near midnight that night, Tori arrived home to an empty apartment for the last time. She walked into darkness and felt along the wall for a light switch. A moment later, the apartment was flooded with light.

Almost immediately, her eyes fell on a gorgeous white dress that hung on her bedroom doorknob. Its sparkling jewels reflected off of the light, projecting its true beauty. She had picked it up earlier that day from the drycleaners and was careful to preserve it until the wedding. She smiled softly at the sight of it.

She went into the bedroom and sank onto the bed. She picked up a picture frame that sat on her bedside table. A smiling group of friends on their prom night stared back at her. She sighed heavily as she thought of that night and the memories she had made with the one person in the world she could never imagine losing.

Marriage wasn't always easy, she knew, and this case would not be any different than any other. But with the right person, she knew that somehow, they could – and would – make it work.

She knew then that somehow, everything truly would be all right.

* * *

"Sweetie, you look perfect. Just relax."

Tori released a trembling breath as she turned away from the mirror and toward her mother. "I'm just nervous, that's all," she murmured.

Holly Vega managed a weak smile. "It's going to be all right. It really will. It's completely normal to feel like this. You've just got to relax. Now." She dug through her purse before removing a slender black box from it. "You've got something new, something borrowed, and something blue. Now, you need something old." She removed the lid, revealing a beautiful diamond necklace. The chain itself was entirely made up of small diamonds, and dangling from it was yet another diamond, shaped in the form of two hearts entwined with one another.

"Oh, my God," Tori breathed. She reached out, gently running her fingertips over it. "Mom, it's beautiful."

"It was your grandmother's," Holly said. She carefully removed the necklace and placed it around Tori's neck. "She passed it on to me, and now, I'm passing it on to you." She kissed Tori's cheek gently. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of her, dressed in white on her wedding day and minutes away from stepping into an entirely different life.

"You're going to be a great wife. I just know it."

Tori smiled. "Thanks," she whispered.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. A moment later, David Vega stepped into the room. "Are you ready, hon? They're waiting."

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm coming." She stepped away from the mirror and toward her father. She hooked her arm through his, then followed him out the door and toward the auditorium, forever leaving behind life as she one knew it to replace it with an all new adventure.

* * *

"You're crazy."

Mere minutes before the wedding, Beck heard those words fall from his best friend's mouth. He glared back at Andre, who sat in a front-row pew. "You're making it a bad habit to show up where you're not wanted." He took his place beside the priest at the altar at the end of the aisle. He tugged lightly at the black suit jacket that covered a red button-down shirt.

Andre scoffed. "You can't possibly think anything good will come out of this. I mean, I can kind of expect Tori to do something like this, but not you. You should know better."

"What am I, five? If you're just going to protest this wedding, leave now. You're not going to ruin this for us, and especially not for Tori. She's really excited about this."

"Fine." Andre stood. "I've got a flight to catch soon, anyway. Best of luck to you and the Missis," he added sourly. With a short wave, he left the church.

Beside Beck, Robbie cleared his throat. "Don't let him get to you," he said. "You've still got all of us to support you two: Cat and I, _your_ parents, _her_ parents…"

"Yeah, I know." Beck anxiously glanced at his watch. "Where are they, anyway? Shouldn't the ceremony have started by now?"

Robbie nodded toward the door. "Look for yourself."

He followed Robbie's gaze.

Tori stood in the doorway, a small bouquet of roses in her hands. Clad in a strapless, floor-length flowing gown, she looked back at him, meeting his eyes steadily. She gave him the bright smile he knew so well and loved. And at that moment, nothing anyone else said could convince him otherwise: this was one decision – one life changing event – he would not regret.

She started down the aisle.

It was a small ceremony. Only his parents and her mother stayed in the pews. Her father stood by her side to give her away; Cat stood to her right, fulfilling her job as maid of honor; Robbie stood beside Beck, serving as the best man. They were all smiles as they watched two of their good friends wed, vowing to be with one another for all eternity.

If only it was that easy.

* * *

After the wedding, a small gathering was held at Beck's apartment. Earlier, he had reluctantly allowed Robbie and Cat in to decorate, and he had to admit, it didn't take long for him to regret that decision.

Balloons that were left over from a recent baby shower were now taped to the back of the chairs. The text on them – "It's a Boy!" – had been crossed out with a black permanent marker and replaced with the lone word, "Congratulations!"

A cheap boom box that had been bought last minute on the way to the apartment sat on the floor, blaring sixties music from a static-filled radio station. The sound flooded throughout the apartment.

Three separate cakes had been piled on top of one another in an attempt to make a three tiered cake. Their attempt had failed, however, and now the layers teetered unsteadily, ready to fall at any given moment.

Confetti had been scattered all over the kitchen floor. Beck winced at the sight of it all. "What's all this?"

"Your reception!" Cat answered excitedly. She took Tori's hand and tugged at it like a small child, anxious to show off their décor. "We made a cake and everything! Isn't it great?"

"It's…something," Tori replied. She wrinkled her nose. "What's that smell?"

"Oh! The pot roast. It's almost done, I think," Robbie answered.

Beck and Tori exchanged uneasy glances. "Are we supposed to cut this?" she asked, eyeing the cake.

"Of course. But first…" Cat reached for the boom box. "It's time for your first dance as a married couple! And what better song to do it to than Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On?'" She jabbed the 'Play' button.

The newlyweds hesitated a moment. They had never considered the physical obligations that were often involved within a marriage. Even something as simple as sharing a dance together somehow seemed uncomfortable now that they were husband and wife. Nonetheless, Beck finally reached out for his wife. To his great relief, she did not pull away or even flinch. He pulled her closer, resting his hand on her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They began to sway to the music. And somehow, as she looked up into his eyes and smiled, all of the discomfort disappeared.

"This isn't so bad, is it?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, it's not. Not at all." He gently took her hand and lifted it up, twirling her. A moment later, she fell back into his arms, laughing.

"Getting fancy now, are we?" she inquired.

He grinned. "Just a little."

"That was fun. Do it again."

He nodded, but paused a moment. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Robbie pulling out the pot roast. He brought the mostly burnt carcass to the table and placed it beside the cake.

Tori grimaced. "Not exactly how I imagined dinner at my wedding would be," she murmured.

"I know." A sly grin crossed Beck's face. "Twenty bucks will go to you if you take out the dinner altogether when I twirl you. But make it good. Leave nothing behind. Except for the cake, actually. It does look quite appetizing."

She laughed again. "You're on."


End file.
